Texty: Fair To Midland. A Seafarer's Knot.

Lucky are the leaves of the clover.
She's diggin for chemistry with the butcher's tools.
Shifty are the eyes of the gambler.
The sand is a richochet.
Taste my grit?

Through the motions and waving wishes to your confidence and eloquence.

He's turning a-green from these envious glorious things.
Applied ambitious faith that can keep us all safe.
Invoking a blue that's meant for us too.
What large amazing things that we'll turn into rain.

Lucky are those one headed carlights.
Those two are as thick as thieves, not a penny more.
Shaky on a cold wetted statue.
I'm digging for pattern leaks on unleaded fuel.

Gather 'round, hold your glasses up high.
Drink to love while we wait for high tide.
Keep it short, keep it brief,
you have my word.
Gather round while we wait for high tide